Through My Eyes
by ScrubsFan39
Summary: When Suze first meets Jesse, only through Jesses eyes. This Fanfic is entirely from Jesses P.O.V. and will probably eventually contain Jesses Pov for all six books. At the moment, we have done shadowland and a bit of ninth key. Read and reivew folks!
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One:**

I was expecting a very young girl to come occupy the room that had been made so...effeminate. There was lace and frills everywhere. This is why I was

appalled that her family kept speaking of her strange behavior, such as entering

other people's houses without their permission, not attending school, and

smoking cigarettes at a wedding. A girl who was to occupy a room that was so

lovingly adorned with lace and frills and flowers could not possibly do the

terrible things her mother described to the girl's new stepfather weeks before

she arrived.

You can imagine my shock when I saw the young lady. She was wearing torn up

jeans and a black leather jacket. Appalling. I know that fashions have changed

in the past 150 years, but I couldn't help but feel disgusted with her taste in

clothing. A girl was wearing pants, and they were falling apart, no less. Her

skin was showing through holes in the knees. And her shirt was tight, leaving no

room for imagining the body beneath it, much to my embarrassment. She,

apparently had no problem with wearing clothes like that while men were around.

But she was a beautiful girl, despite her distasteful clothing. She had

beautiful brown hair and the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. They were the

color of emeralds.

I chastised myself for thinking those thoughts about her as soon as I realized I

was thinking them. It wasn't right to think those thoughts about any lady, let

alone one who could not see me. And then there was the little fact that I was

dead and it didn't matter what I thought of her.

And then I realized that she liked the decor her mother and stepfather had

chosen for her room about as much as I did, which was to say, not very much. She

tried to hide her discontent for the decorations, but her pretense faltered as

she neared the window seat. Her mother looked at her with concern. "Oh no,

Susie," Mrs. Ackerman said. "Not again."

But I hadn't realized that the girl Mrs. Ackerman had called Susie had seen me.

For a hundred and fifty years, no living human had ever seen me. Because I was

dead.

Susannah had seen me, I realized, because as her mother and stepfather left her

to unpack the remainder of her belongings, she looked at me and said, "Who the

hell are you?"

Nombre de Dios, what kind of greeting was that? Such language. I had heard worse

from men who'd lost games of poker, but a lady never dared to raise her voice

above a whisper, much less swear.

Times, she informed me, were a-changing.

And I believed her.

Okay, this story was co-written by me (booksrule39) and Bee Bee (beebeepumpkingheadisdarcy). Please read and review folks! We would loooove it if you did. Oh and, be sure to read Bee Bees other fabulous Mediator stories. She is a great writer!


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:**

I materialized in Susannah's room later, when I was sure she was asleep. I sat

on the window seat, which was where I had been sitting ever since it had been

put there. Before that, I had just paced around the room. I occasionally visited

other parts of Carmel, but really, what was the point? I visited the Mission

once or twice, but only after their school had finished. I liked looking at it

when it was deserted and peaceful. If anyone was near, I would simply

dematerialize.

I saw no point staying around the living. They didn't know I existed. But for

some reason I could never move on. I thought it was because I had been murdered,

but after he died, and I didn't move on, I began to wonder. But back to the

mission. It had been standing when I was alive, and reminded me of when I had

came there when I was alive. Susannah's mother and step-father had mentioned

the place once or twice. I wondered if Susannah would be attending the school

there. Susannah. What a beautiful name. It reminded me of a song I had heard, back when

I was alive. Back when I was alive. Back when people talked to me, back when my

family was still alive. Oh, it had been agony watching them grow old and die,

when I was staying unnaturally young. It was worse that I could not comfort them

in their grief after I died. My youngest sister especially found it hard. She

never was really the same person. And all because of me, my death and ...No. I

would not even think of, of him. Or of her, my own cousin no less. I had learned

to get over my death. I couldn't change it, no matter what I thought. Painful

memories. That's all they will ever be, I reminded myself. Memories.

I half unconsciously started singing the song.

"Oh Susannah don't you cry for me," I looked at her sleeping figure. She looked

much more peaceful now then she had earlier. She had wanted me out, so I had

gone. But I had returned. It wasn't my place to do so, but it had been 150 years

since I have had a conversation. 150 years. That was a long time of sitting

around, staring out at the ocean. A long time to remember.

"I came from Alabama with this banjo on my knee," I knew the song would annoy

her, if she could hear it. So I sang softly. Yet she must have heard me, because

she stirred ever so slightly in her sleep. I hastily dematerialized. It would

not do for her to wake up with me there. She certainly had a quick temper.

I didn't return for a while, knowing that really, I shouldn't return at all. But

there were so many reasons for me to do so. She could hear me, see me for

starters. And from what I had overheard her mother saying, she was constantly

getting into trouble. Maybe...Maybe I should keep an eye on her. So I decided

to return.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three:**

I knew, of course, that Susannah would not like the idea of me staying around to

protect her from the trouble Mrs. Ackerman talked about with Mr. Ackerman quite

frequently. It was obvious that they didn't know she could speak with the

dead. I had a suspicion that most of Susannah's trouble was caused by her

ability to see and speak to the dead, as there were many deceased persons

who'd resort to violence to get what they wanted from her, whether it be for

her to steal something from one person and give it to another, or for her to

find their murderers and make certain that the police arrested them.

I sensed a great deal of anger and sadness in the poor girl. The anger was

generally directed to the spirits she mediated, and God, who made her a

mediator. The sadness seemed to stem from somewhere else, something more

personal and something much, much deeper: The death of her father. Part of her

sadness may have been that she'd had to move away from the home and friend

she'd loved, and the fact that she frequently had to lie to her mother in

order to perform her duty as a mediator.

I didn't know any of this-except for the fact that she was a

Mediator-because she'd told me. I only knew from what her family and other

spirits had said about her. I don't know if my ability to sense her sadness

and anger stemmed form the fact that I'd spent so much time as a ghost and had

developed the powers of sensing peoples emotions and telekinesis-I believe

it is called-or in the fact that I was very drawn to the girl.

She would be angry with me for staying around. She might even hit me, or find a

way to exorcise my soul, that was fine with me. It was my duty, I felt, to be

the one ghost who wanted nothing from her, except to protect her, and to

possibly relieve some of the sadness and anger she felt.

Staying around, I knew, would put me in a precarious position. I wanted to

protect her, rather than hurt her, and I wanted nothing from her, but if I

stayed too long, I may begin to have improper-and maybe even sinful-thoughts

about her, which could damn my eternal soul to hell. Was it even possible for a dead man to sin? As Susannah had said, my higher

power may have forgotten about me, if He'd left me here for a hundred and

fifty years with no contact with any living person.

Except Susannah.

I watched her sleep some more. She looked so beautiful.

I chastise myself for the thought. I cannot have immoral thoughts about her.

She may be able to see me-or speak to me, or even touch me-but she was

Alive. I was dead.

And I had a sneaking suspicion that she hated me. Or at least strongly disliked

me.

So I'd known her for a few hours, and I was already having impure thoughts

about her-my first, and hopefully last, impure thought about a woman, ever.

I wanted to hold her in my arms and assure her that I would make sure nothing or

no one would ever hurt her.

Is that even considered impure?


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four: **

I materialized into Susannah's room later that evening. I, of course, was very

surprised to see her out of bed, fully dressed. I looked at her confusedly. Was

she going out? It must be something to do with a ghost. Another ghost to

mediate. But why at this hour of the night? Her mother would not be pleased.

"Susannah, where are you going at this time of night? Your mother will be

worried," I said.

Susannah replied sharply, something along the lines of how her mother need never

find out. I thought about what other spirits had told me. That there was a

dangerous ghost with very strong powers on the loose around this town. Some

schoolgirl? Surely that could not be the ghost Susannah was going out to see.

She tried to leave, but I slid the deadbolt in place. She looked very angry. She

demanded I let her out, and I hesitated. She wanted to go, I couldn't keep her

here against her wishes could I?

I could. She would be putting herself in danger. I expected Susannah to give up,

but to my surprise, she started climbing out the window. Would this girl never

give up? She was so persistent! But then, Susannah is not like other girls of

her age. She was half out the window when I grabbed her wrist. "Susannah," I

said to her. Please don't go. I silently begged her. Please. I looked into her

eyes and noticed the direction of her gaze. I quickly pulled my hand away from

hers. What was I doing? I hadn't touched any one in 150 years, why start now?

And with a lady no less? It's just...I didn't want her to go. But while I was

thinking all this, she had already climbed out the window and jumped off the

porch roof. I cursed and dematerialized.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five:**

I say that I watched Susannah leave like the fool I am because I am a fool. I

was a fool to let her go. I should have stopped her. I'd sensed there was

going to be trouble at the school after I realized that Susannah was going to

the school to speak with Heather, and I'd irresponsibly allowed her to go.

Albeit, I hadn't wanted her to, but I hadn't tried hard enough to stop her.

Heather, the girl Susannah was mediating, was full of rage. Rage? No. On

Second thought, hate. Worse, she focused her hatred onto Susannah, although it

was clearly not Susannah's fault the girl had died. It was, to say the least,

Heather's fault that she had died, given that she chose to end her own life

with a gun.

And over a man, at that.

Susannah hadn't even wanted to go to a Catholic school, I could tell, from

what I'd heard her say to her mother on the way in the car to her new home. I

had been in the car at the time-careful not to materialize-trying to see if

the girl was a horrible as her family and other spirits had made her sound.

Susannah had also threatened to break the finger of one of Heather's friends.

Susannah may have been going to dinner with Heather's boyfriend, but my

observation of the boy made me think that nothing would ever come to be between

Susannah and the boy named Bryce.

Heather was not really a stupid girl. She obviously knew that Susannah

Wasn't trying to take her place in the world. Heather hated Susannah because

Susannah was alive-and the fact that Susannah could see Heather just made it

worse. Heather hated Susannah for what Susannah had nothing to do with, and yet

Susannah was trying to help the poor young girl-quite surprising to me,

considering her given foul temper where I was concerned.

Although Susannah had at first seemed very tough and aloof-and a little bit

rude-I saw that she did have a right to want me gone from her room-I was,

after all, a man; and even though it was all right for her to wear pants and

even tight clothing that outlined her body in a way that was not safe for a

virtuous man to view, she had enough decency not to want to change clothes in

front of a man. Susannah clearly did not understand that I would have left the

room for no reason if she had asked nicely enough. Now that I saw that she

needed protection, it would be impossible for me to leave her alone. I would,

of course, leave from time to time to give her privacy-I am not an immoral

man-but I wouldn't 'get the hell out,' as she was so bent on me doing.

Immediately after Susannah left, I'd dematerialized and gone to the school,

and waited for her arrival, which was not far behind my own. I didn't

materialize as soon as she arrived because I didn't want her to get even more

angry with me.

And I wanted to see just how good she was at mediating.

Oh, she tried to reason with the girl, and to her credit, it almost

worked-except that she forgot to mention to Heather that she could get a new

life and start over, but never, ever could Heather her old one back. Susannah

did, however, realize her mistake, and she tried to fix it quickly, but Heather

refused to listen to what Susannah had to say.

Instead, Heather decided to boil the water in the fountain in the courtyard, and

to shake the bench Susannah had been sitting on with such a violent force that

would send Susannah flying through the churches courtyard if she hadn't

gotten off the bench quickly enough.

And when the boiling water and shaking bench were not enough, Heather decided to

decapitate the statue of Father Serra and send the priest's bronze head

hurling through the air at Susannah.

I looked closer. I could see that merely decapitating the priest hadn't been

enough-she'd twisted his face into an evil sneer.

Susannah screamed, and that's when I decided she needed my help.

I wanted to protect her chivalrously, but I also wanted to play the 'I told

you so' angle, just to get back at her for her cattiness with me. I like

teasing her because her reaction is so predictable.

The head of the statue plunged and hit Susannah, knocking her to the ground.

She just stayed there on the ground, looking at the sky. Any minute now,

Heather could have sent another object flying, and Susannah could have died from

the blow.

"Get up," I said to her. "I thought you were supposed to be good at

this," I said, regretting it as soon as the words left my mouth. Maybe I

shouldn't have said it quite so rudely, but she didn't seem to notice.

I yanked her to her feet, and we ran into the classroom, the window to which

She'd broken open a little while ago. We leaned against the door as if that

would protect us from Heather. The statues head was banging into the door.

"Jesu Cristo!" "'I can take care of myself,' you said. "I'll just have

to get rid of her first,' you told me. Right!"

"Shut up," she said, understandably not appreciating my sarcasm.

"Cadaver breath," I said. "Do you realized that's what you called me?

That hurt, querida," I said, realizing as soon as I said it that she

thankfully didn't know what the word meant. I'm sure she'd really

Appreciate being called 'sweetheart' by someone like me. Someone dead.

"It really hurt."

"I told you not to call me that," she hissed.

She didn't seem to be the tiniest bit grateful for my warning for her to get

up.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you didn't make disparaging remarks about

my-

"Look, this door isn't going to hold up much longer," she said,

interrupting me.

"May I make a suggestion?" I asked her, just after the head smashed its way

through the door.

"Sure."

"Run."

She wasted no time in running. She knew that she couldn't beat Heather.

Eventually, Heather drained herself of her energy, and she went away. Susannah

doubted it, and she prattled on about how she didn't know how to stop Heather

from killing Bryce, and how she could possibly try to keep him away from the

school.

"Susannah-" I tried to get her attention. She kept talking. I said her

name again.

"Susannah, it's all right. It's not your fault. There was nothing you

could do."

She protested, saying that she could have kicked Heather back into her grave. I

told her that Heather would have killed her if she'd even tried.

"Come on. Let's go home," I said, leading her away. She kept talking

about how she needed to stop Heather, and how it was her job to keep these

things from happening. I told her that no one should ever expect her to battle

demons from hell, and she proceeded to take Heather's defense by saying

Heather was just mad!

Heather reminded me of Maria, and in a dangerous way.

I looked down at Susannah in the moonlight, and I realized she was bleeding.

"Susannah, you're bleeding," I said.

"I am not," she said. Nombre de Dios, was she going to protest everything I

said?

She looked down, and was shocked to find that she was indeed bleeding. Then she

realized that she'd bled on my shirt and apologized. I was quite surprised

that she'd ever apologize to me for anything.

"It's nothing," I said, and I bandaged her hand with my handkerchief.

She thanked me for saving her, and I, for one, was appalled. But glad. Very

glad. I kind of liked her, but I couldn't let her know that "Never

mind," I said, "let's go home."


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter six:**

Susannah and I walked back home. Well, back to Susannah's house really. It had

never been my home, even when I was alive, just a place to stay. But I was drawn

to the spot, as it was where I had died. As I couldn't move on, this was were I

had stayed. It seemed appropriate.

As we walked, I pushed the bike. Susannah was injured, after all. True, it was

only a cut on her hand, but it was deep. And I would have pushed the bike even

if she wasn't injured. She was, after all, a lady. Why should she push it, when

I was there? Although I doubt she would have let me. I turned my thoughts to

Heather. Nombre de Dios, I had never encountered a soul like hers before. Well,

there was Maria...But Heather was the one who had almost killed Susannah.

Susannah, who had done nothing but try to help her. I wondered if this was the

way all ghosts treated her. This made me worry. How long had she had to do this?

How long had she had to mediate ghosts, look after them, help them move on? She

was still a child in many ways. I figured her to be around sixteen. Around

Heathers age. Why did Heather want to kill Susannah? I did not think she did,

she was just angry. Angry over a boy, I had learned. She killed herself because

he did not return her affections. It made me think of something I had heard

before, something said by a man named William Congreve.

"Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd, nor hell a fury like a woman

scorned."

Surprisingly, she turned to me and asked if I was speaking from experience. I

smiled a little at that. I had never fallen in love, never met a girl I would

have liked to marry. I had died to young. She then told me that sometimes the

woman scorned had every right to be mad sometimes. I started. Was she speaking

from experience? I voiced this to her. She seemed to find the idea ludicrous for

some reason. As if the idea of anyone liking her was amusing. How could it be

so? She was beautiful, intelligent and passionate. Surely she had had many a

suitor? Although she was only sixteen, if I had guessed correctly. Still...

We talked a little of Heather. Then Susannah, not very tactfully, asked me how I

had died. This got me thinking. Should I tell her? If I did, then maybe she

would know what was keeping me back. Maybe then she would proceed to get rid of

me. But I trusted her. I would tell her some of it, at least. I told her how

something had happened when I was staying here...but then I realized the time.

It was a long story and a slightly disturbing one, too. I said this to her, and

she seemed saddened. Was she really that anxious to know what had happened to

me? Why did she care? I smiled at her protests, and steered her up the front

porch. She asked if I would tell her some other time. She made me promise.

"I promise. Goodnight, Querida." And I meant it. I would tell her. Just not now.

I dematerialized as soon as she was safely inside.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven:**

I thought maybe the night before had taught Susannah a lesson, but no. The girl

was foolish enough to go back to see Heather at the mission.

And this time, she told me that if I knew what was good for me, I wouldn't go

down there.

If she knew what was good for herself, she wouldn't have gone, either. The

girl was crazed! I thought it was remarkably stupid of her to go down to the

mission, knowing full and well that Heather could easily kill her. Nombre de

Dios, I had never seen such foolishness.

I liked Susannah and all, but she was crazy. The girl was plainly out of her

Mind!

I refused to allow her to go. If she wanted to kill herself, fine, but she'd

have to get past me first. I would not allow such foolishness on my watch.

Heather had tried to kill her, and I was not about to let it happen again. What

would the poor girl's mother think? I highly doubted Susannah's mother knew

of her gift.

I waited for her to come out of her room. I didn't want to make her angry by

stopping her before she was able to leave her room. I'd let her think she was

going to get away with her stupid charade first.

She opened the window and climbed down the roof. She let herself drop down to

the ground. She went into the garage and took a bicycle. As foolish as her

adventure was, I had to admire her for her ability to escape unnoticed.

She tried to leave, but I took the opportunity to stop her.

I'd been leaning on a tree. I straightened when I realized she'd seen me.

I once again asked her if it wasn't a little late to be going out. She made

some comment about going to stop Heather. She proceeded to tell me that if I

knew what was good for me, I'd not show up at the mission that night. She was,

she informed me, going to perform an exorcism. I thought that ironic. That she

warned me, I mean. Hadn't she just, a few days earlier, told me she wanted me

gone? Wouldn't that be a perfect way to be rid of me-just let me go along

with her and be rid of two ghosts at once?

Susannah hopped on a bike and was about to leave. I planted my hands firmly on

the handlebars. "No," I said. "You are not going,"

She looked pained. "Jesse, I can handle myself," she said. "I'm a mediator.

It's what I do."

Then she yanked the handlebars out of my grasp and sped away. Like the fool I

am, I just stood there and watched her.

After a few minutes, I realized what I needed to do. I dematerialized and

rematerialized in her brother David's room. I knew David cared about Susannah.

I didn't know if my plan would work, and if it failed, I would go down to the

mission. Susannah would need help. Heather was so full of rage. Heather had

only injured Susannah the night before. Tonight, I was certain Heather would

kill her.

I touched David's shoulder. He didn't respond. I touched him again. Had I

been alive, I'd have been holding my breath, waiting for a response.

He woke up.

"Susannah is at the school. She is in a great danger. Go help her," I told him

somehow. I knew that he couldn't see me or hear me as Susannah had. I prayed

that he would somehow understand my message. I hoped a dead man's prayers were

still heard by the ears of God.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight:**

I watched David closely. He woke up, jumped to his feet and ran to his brothers

room. Thank you, God. It was pure chance I had been able to get through to him.

Communicating with the living is no easy task. I am however, quite skilled with

my powers. Especially of the kinetic kind. I sometimes do not even realize I am

doing it. For example, if I am mad, things around me may begin to shake.

However talking to the living is no easy task, even for the most powerful of

ghosts. I was exhausted. And yet still I worried for Susannah. Would her

brothers reach her time? I felt so helpless.

If I went, there was every chance I would be exercised. Sometimes I feel I

Wouldn't mind this, I would finally be free. But most of the time I want to

stay until I realize what is keeping me here.

Now I have another reason to stay. Susannah. I have to protect her. Yet I should

be protecting her now!

As my thoughts tossed around in my head, I chanced a look out the window. I saw

the Ackerman family car tearing away. If I had not been so worried about

Susannah I would have marveled at her elder step brother's driving skills. He

drove like a man possessed! I wished Susannah did not ride with him. It was

clearly dangerous. Though Susannah would feel I was being over protective. I

didn't care if I was.

After all, Susannah needed a lot of protection. I concentrated my thoughts on

the spirit realm. If I concentrated hard enough, I could sort of sense what was

happening, to a certain extent. For instance, I knew that Susannah had started

the exorcism. There was no way I could go there now. I was frozen still,

focusing all my energy.

Then...A huge wave of energy passed through me, unlike anything I had ever felt

before. It was directed at the mission, that much I could tell. Right after the

energy wave, I sensed that Heather was gone. The exorcism was complete. But the

energy...my question was answered as I heard a low rumbling noise. Susannah! It

sounded as if something had collapsed. Part of the mission, from what I could

tell. I wanted so desperately to go down there. I decided to, despite

Susannah's warnings and the fact that traces of the exorcism may still be

lingering. I could be unintentionally exorcised. But just as I was about to

dematerialize, I remembered her brothers. The should be there by now. They would

help her.

Still, I waited anxiously. I finally heard the car pull up, and then heard

voices on the stairs. I waited until she was almost at her door before I

hesitated. She was tired. She would want her privacy. I would see her tomorrow,

when she was well.

I turned to the open window and shut it. The doorknob turned. I was gone before

she took her first step into the room.

I did not return until late that day. I materialized in Susannah's room and

she put a hand over her heart and exclaimed loudly. I gathered that she found me

dropping by quite unexpected, if the look on her face meant anything. But

really, how could I announce that I had arrived? I told her this, and she made

the ridiculous suggestion that I rattle some chains. Honestly.

Besides, I enjoyed seeing her surprised face. She was so rarely surprised, after

all. I looked at her in amusement. She was staring at me, and had stopped in the

middle of a sentence. "Something wrong, Querida?"

Something I had been thinking about popped into my head, and I said it before I

knew what I was doing. "Why did you warn me about the exorcism?"

She replied that it was about fair play. I could understand that. But still, a

tiny part of me wondered...If she had warned me because she liked me? She

denied this, of course, and reassured me she had had a plan all along. Right. I

found it laughable. Of course it was not so funny when she said she did not need

my help. Why? Because I was a cowboy, as she had called me? She challenged me,

said it was because I was dead. That hurt. But then she thanked me, thanked me

for saving her life. I grabbed her shoulders.

What was I doing? I looked at her...and heard her mother. I hastily disappeared.

After I left Susannah I materialized at the beach. After all, where else could I

go? No one was there, and it was rather peaceful. I looked out at the ocean. The

sun was slowly sinking. My thoughts turned to Susannah. It seemed I was always

thinking about her. Was this a good thing? I really shouldn't become to

emotionally attached...but it was hard. She was...Words couldn't explain. No one

could. My Querida. I was afraid I was beginning to like her. I hoped she would

want to be friends with me, despite my somewhat flippant attitude towards her.

Singing to annoy her and whatnot. But I did these things, because that's how I

treated my sisters. And I didn't want to see Susannah as anything other than a

friend for now. For the moment, that was how things stood. We were friends. She

liked me, or she wouldn't have warned me about the exorcism. I liked her. We

were friends. And for now, that was enough.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine:**

_It had been two weeks or so since Susannah had exorcized Heather. I thought of her often, and stayed in her room reading and keeping an eye on her. Good grief, I thought to myself. The girl has preformed an exorcism. What other kind of trouble could a sixteen year old girl get into? And yet, Susannah was no ordinary sixteen year old girl. _

I felt the woman's presence enter the room. I'd seen her around. I knew

she was looking for Susannah. She wanted Susannah to deliver a very important message to someone she'd left behind.

Sensing that she'd found Susannah-and hearing the woman's blood-curdling

scream, which I knew would make Susannah very happy-I went there, only I was

Careful not to materialize. I should have felt guilty for eavesdropping on

their conversation, but I had a feeling Susannah would once again need help.

Susannah jerked awake. The woman stopped screaming.

"I'm sorry," the woman said to Susannah.

"Yeah, well, you got my attention. Now what do you want?" Susannah said

rudely. I realize that the woman shouldn't have screamed. No one wants to be

woken up by the sound of someone screaming, but the woman was very clearly upset

about something. The least Susannah could have done was to be polite.

"I need you to tell someone something."

"Okay. What?" Susannah said, a little more politely than before.

"Tell him it wasn't his fault. He didn't kill me," the woman said.

"Tell him he didn't kill you?" Susannah said incredulously.

I listened to the rest of the conversation. The woman instructed Susannah to

tell a man named Red that he hadn't killed her.

The woman left. Susannah hadn't tried to comfort her. Susannah hadn't even

asked the woman's name.

I materialized in her room to scold her for her treatment of the poor woman.

"Excuse me. This is my bedroom. I will treat spectral visitors any way I want to, thank you," she said haughtily. Wasn't that the truth? I liked her, but she was kind of rude to people.

"If you're going to do this Susannah, don't do it halfway," I said. I

know it sounded as if I were trying to be a father to her, but she needed

guidance.

"Look, Jesse, I've been doing this a long time without any help from you,

okay?"

That hurt. Had I not just saved her life, not a week ago? She apparently

Didn't consider that as help.

"She was obviously in great emotional need, and you-" I said, but she cut

me off.

"What about you? You two live on the same astral plane, if I'm not mistaken. Why didn't you get her rank and serial number?"

What was that supposed to mean? I had no idea. I asked her what she meant. I

swear, we both speak English, and I can't understand half of what she says.

And everything she says sounds very unintelligent, and even a little vulgar. I

Don't like her twenty-first century vernacular.

She explained what she meant-she asked me why hadn't I asked the woman for

her name and situation.

Well, it wasn't my job, was it?

I shook my head and told her that things didn't work like that. I couldn't

have asked the woman about her situation because I wasn't a mediator. I could

have asked her name, but not much else. Only mediators can help ghosts with

their problems. Ghosts aren't allowed to meddle in the affairs of other

ghosts.

"Goodnight then, Susannah," I said.

"Goodnight."

No sooner than I'd left her room, I'd met another ghost: Susannah's father.

"Who are you and what are doing in my daughter's bedroom?" He said. He did not look happy to see me. I did not blame him at all. My father would not have been happy if a man had shown up in my sisters bedrooms.

"I am Hector de Silva, but you may call me Jesse. I was murdered in your

Daughter's bedroom a hundred and fifty years ago. I can promise you, sir,

that I have no dishonorable intentions toward your daughter."

He smiled. "You seem all right."

"With all due respect, sir, your daughter is a handful. She is very stubborn.

A week ago, she nearly died while exorcising the ghost of a young girl. I tried

to tell her not to go, but she wouldn't listen to me."

He laughed. "That's Susie for you."

We had a nice chat about Susannah-and about being dead-after he got over his

initial anger over me being in his daughter's room.

I really liked him. Mr. Simon, I mean. He was very protective of his daughter.

He agreed that it would be all right if I stayed in Susannah's room if I left

whenever she wanted to be alone, or if she was changing clothes or anything like

that, as long as nothing inappropriate happened between Susannah and me.

What did he take me for? A rogue?

Yo! Bee Bee and I have now started Ninth Key from Jesse's point of view. Enjoy! And please, give long reviews…no matter what you think of the story, we want your opinion!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten:**

I felt the lady that had appeared last night materialise in Susannah's room. Although I also heard her. Her scream was glass shatteringly loud. Although as Susannah was the only one who could hear it, I doubted there would be complaints. I listened to the conversation they had with interest. I didn't materialise as I wanted to give Susannah a chance to do her 'Job'. As soon as the lady had left, I materialised.

"Now that, was your best performance yet," I told her. "You seemed caring, yet disgusted." I may have been being a little hard on her, but she needed to understand about this ghost. She was very emotional, and something strong was holding her back. Almost as strong as what was holding me back. I could sense that. Susannah needed to treat this one delicately, although I doubted she would agree with me. Susannah seemed somewhat annoyed that I had chosen to turn up at this moment, and mentioned the chain rattling thing again. Really. A ghost must have _some _dignity, after all. In thinking off dignity, I was reminded of something. "Don't you have something to tell me?" I countered. She seemed confused, until I informed her of her father paying a visit to me. She then seemed highly embarrassed. Did she not see how hurt I was? Did she really want me gone so bad that she had to ask her father to talk to me? I was also slightly mad. She could talk to _me_, if she had any problems with our current arrangement. I controlled my anger though, to the best of my knowledge. I ran a hand through my hair as we talked. What she then said momentarily floored me.

"I don't mind having you around."

I was stunned. She really didn't mind the fact that the ghost of a twenty year old Spanish rancher was haunting her bedroom? Although, as she informed me, she did wonder as too why I stayed. I couldn't find the words. What was I to say? Then Susannah had the nerve to say she had hoped we could be open and honest with each other. That's when my previous thoughts came tumbling out of my mouth.

"What about you Susannah? Have you been open and honest with me? I don't think so. Otherwise, why would your father come after me?" I breathed deeply feeling both relived that I had finally said it and disgruntled that I'd had to. She seemed mortified, and assured me that she had nothing to do with it. On hearing me say that my intentions where not dishonourable however, she became interested. She wondered out loud what intentions I had. _Really._ She did. I threw her pillow at her, indicating for her to drop the subject. I didn't have to tell her everything. However somehow, it seemed as if I hadn't told her much. We then had a discussion about what happens to people when they die, and why neither her father nor I have moved on. Suddenly, I realised her hands were covered in something. I flipped them over and inquired about it. She told me they were poison oak. Ahhh, I remembered when my younger sister by one year, Monique, had got poison oak on her hands. She was in tears and wore elbow length gloves for a week. Although nowadays they didn't seem to be in fashion. So I gave Susannah the same advice I gave my sister. "You should try putting a poultice of gum flower leaves on them." This idea didn't appeal to her, so I suggested gunpowder. She seemed equally unimpressed. Well, I was only trying to _help_, as I informed her. I warned her about the woman whom had come earlier. She responded that I should drool blood. I dematerialised so she wouldn't see the hurt un my face.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven:**

Why must she be so rude, I wondered to myself as I wondered around on the astral

plane. It's a fairly quiet place. It looks kind of like a big white room that stretches on forever in all directions. Other ghosts come around, and we talk about other ghosts and the living, particularly the mediators.

Tonight, there was a man there, I had no idea who he was. He was the type of

ghost I was: the kind who had become a ghost because he'd died unjustly, but had never moved on because he simply liked to watch the living.

"You like the little mediator girl don't you?" He said as soon as I appeared on the plane.

"Well, of course I don't dislike her," I said.

"That's not what I meant, sonny boy," he said chuckling. He'd been in his late fifties when he'd died when his truck jackknifed during a snowstorm, He'd once told me. What he'd meant, I don't know, but I think he was referring to an automobile accident. I thought it was kind of ironic that he'd refer to me as 'sonny boy' when I was technically older than he was.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I said.

"You're sweet on her, aren't you?" he said.

"I still do not understand." I was really confused.

"You like her as in you almost love her. I mean, if you hang around her some

more, you probably will love her," he said. He was smiling.

I liked Susannah. I could not love her. That would have been wrong.

"I can't love her. I'm dead. She's alive."

"But you do, and you can. I love my daughter. She loves me," he said.

"But your daughter can't see you, as Susannah can see me. Besides, I told

her father I did not have any dishonorable intentions toward her," I said. I

sighed.

"Is loving a person dishonorable?" He asked, but he did not leave me time to

answer his question. Instead, he left me alone to think on his question.

Was loving a person dishonorable? It was dishonorable for me to love Susannah

because in the unlikely event she felt the same, it would prevent her from leading a normal life, or so it seemed to me. It wouldn't be wise to stay around her, but she needed my help.

I didn't know who this Red person was, but I knew that he wasn't who she thought he was.

I had heard her ask her friend Cee Cee who was named Red, and Cee Cee and Adam had

told her about a man, an older man, who owned some sort of business managing

property. It didn't make sense that he would have not killed someone, but think that he had anyway.

Susannah, however, seemed to think that he was the man she was looking for.

I knew she was going to be in more trouble later on. Even her father had tried

to tell her that the realtor was not the right man, that it was someone else,

yet she refused to listen.

If she refused to listen to her father, who would she listen to? Certainly not

I.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve:**

**I materialised in Susannah's room some time later when I was sure she would be asleep. It was after all, quite late. To my surprise her bed was empty. I resolved to waiting for her. We needed to talk about this 'Red' person. After almost a quarter of an hour I began to wonder where she could be. 'She has a life other than you' I chided myself. Still, when I thought of Susannah on a date with someone my chest wrenched unpleasantly. I don't know why, and I preferred not to dwell on it. Besides, she may not be out on a date. She may be out with her friends or something. Despite what the old man thought, I was by no means in _love_ with Susannah. She was my friend. And in being my first friend in over one hundred years, I had every right to have strong feelings of protectiveness for her. Didn't I? I heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel driveway and peered out the window. A boy had driven up in horrible monstrosity of a car. Although I wasn't paying particular attention to the car or its driver. I was paying more attention to the person sitting in the passenger seat. Susannah. So she _had_ been on a date. My chest wrenched again at this realisation. I saw the boy lean over and kiss Susannah. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I dematerialised and appeared in the backseat of the car. They kept kissing for a moment, and I was annoyed with how forward the boy was being. Had he no respect? But then Susannah noticed me. She screamed and I assured her not to stop on _my _account. Although that was all I wanted. For her to stop, and get away from that…boy. She did, and stormed away up the driveway. I followed and said the first words that came to my lips, "It's your own fault". She seemed genially surprised at this. And when I pursued the subject she just got embarrassed. We ended up arguing passionately and stood face to face, neither of us willing to back down. She was as hot-headed as I was, and just as stubborn and determined. And yet, when I looked at her, her face softened. Her emerald eyes lost the glare and sparkled as she stared unseeingly at me. She was deep in thought. I looked at her again, lightly tanned skin beautifully pale in the moonlight and hastily disappeared. For my thoughts were not of anger, not any more. They were of something quite the opposite. And I had begun to worry that I would act on these feelings and do something rash. Which would be unacceptable. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

**I chastised myself all evening because of the thoughts I'd had about Susannah. It was not right of me to have such thoughts about her…or any woman, for that matter.**

**But Susannah was the only woman -or girl really- that I'd ever really gotten to know, and she was the only girl I'd ever liked in an inappropriate way.**

**There. I have admitted it. I realized as soon as I thought about not "giving in" to desires that I must have liked her as a little more than a mere friend. **

**I tried to tell myself during that night -and the next morning after Susannah had left for school- that I should not have interfered with her "date." After all, it was interfering that made me realize how I really felt about her. **

**Tad being too forward was just my excuse for interfering. I really interfered, because, I will admit it, I wanted to be the one to kiss her like that. I know it is wrong to even desire such things, but I could not deny it -at least not to myself. **

**It was wrong, wrong, wrong. If I had had those thoughts about a woman in 1850, my father would have been very angry with me. **

**She was late getting home from school. I was afraid that she'd gone on another date with Tad, but somehow I doubted it. Not after the argument we'd had the night before. **

**As it would turn out, Susannah had not been on a date with Tad. I knew because he came to the house with his father. I looked them over. I was not impressed. The boy, now that I had better inspection of him, was no suitable for Susannah. He looked slightly stupid. **

**I went back to the room I shared with Susannah. I dematerialized but stayed in the room. I did not want to anger Susannah by being there while Tad was there.**

**I'd originally been planning to apologize to her for our argument, but I didn't think it was a wise decision with Tad within the vicinity. **

**She came home a little while later. She came upstairs to our room, looking very annoyed, but I don't think she was annoyed with me. At first, for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe she was annoyed that Tad and his father were there, but I later discovered that it was only part of the problem.**

**She had something in a plastic bag. She emptied its contents -a plastic box and a bag of something called cat litter and a bunch of small cans with pictures of cats on them- and then took something else out of another bag, one of the bags she'd apparently purchased for her own use, one of the bags she'd held in great reverence, much like Maria and her stupid bonnet -only Susannah didn't seem to be as haughty as Maria. Susannah, I suspected, was actually very nice under her tough exterior. **

**I looked closely at the thing she had removed from the bag. It was some sort of orange animal. Was it a cat? **

"**What is that?" I asked. I'm afraid I was gawking at the thing. It was a truly strange creature. **

"**It's a cat. I didn't have any choice. It's just until I find a home for it," she said.**

**I was dubious. I shook my head. "Are you sure it's a cat? It doesn't look like any cat I've ever seen. It looks more like … what do they call them? Those small horses. Oh yes, a pony." **

"**I'm sure it's a cat." She looked preoccupied. "Listen, Jesse," she said, "I'm kind of in a jam here." **

**I looked at the cat. "I can see that," I said.**

"**Not about the cat. It's about Tad."**

**I should have known. I suddenly felt protective… and, I will admit, I felt a little jealous, too. I tried not to let my emotions show. I knew she would approve of neither my protectiveness nor my jealousy. **

"**He's downstairs with his father. They want me to come over for dinner, and I'm not going to be able to get out of it," she said.**

**I muttered some very unpleasant things in Spanish. I was very glad at that moment that Susannah didn't know or speak the language. **

"**The thing is, I've found out some things about Mr. Beaumont…things that make me…well, nervous. So, could you, um, do me a favor?"**

**I straightened, surprised. She didn't ask me to do favors very often; she mostly tried to deter me from doing things for her. **

**I, of course, wouldn't mind doing things for her…**

"**Of course, _querida," _I said. I regretted using that word. Well, it was not really the word -it only meant sweetheart- but rather it was the tone I always seemed to apply to the word. She didn't know what the word meant, and for that I was thankful, but she could hear just like most other people, and I was afraid she'd sense the tone I used for that word. **

"**Look, if I'm not back by midnight, can you just let Father Dominic know that he should probably call the police?"**

**I was surprised. I didn't think she'd want me to speak to the priest. I knew that he would not approve of the fact that I shared a room with her.**

"**You want me to speak to the priest?" I asked, just to make sure I'd heard her correctly.**

**I looked at her. She was busy gathering supplies: a flashlight, some metal tools, gloves, and a pencil. "Yes, I do," she said. **

"**But Susannah, if he's dangerous, this man, why are you-" I started, but I didn't get to finish the sentence because Susannah's mother walked into the room. **

**Helen Ackerman, Susannah's mother was completely oblivious to the danger her daughter was putting herself into by leaving with that man and his son. "Suze, you decent?" she asked. I didn't know exactly what she had meant by that, but it was certainly nothing to do with preventing Susannah from being harmed.**

"**Yeah, Mom," Susannah said, glancing at me.**

**For the first time, as I looked at her face, I realized how worried she was. I wouldn't go to the priest if she was not home by midnight -I'd go to Father Dominic immediately after she left. **

**I dematerialized, leaving Susannah in private with her mother, but I could still hear what she was saying to her mother. I heard her lie to her mother. I listened to them as they spoke with one another, and realized why Susannah lied to her mother: she loved her and didn't want to disturb the woman's happiness.**

**I'm sorry to say that, for that reason, I'd found yet another reason to care for her. Susannah, not Mrs. Ackerman. **


End file.
